


Quiet

by ArchangelUnmei



Series: Give Me A Sign [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deaf Character, Deaf Cor Leonis, Gen, Healer Ardyn Izunia, Magic Voice - Freeform, Muteness, No General Glauca, Some War Some Daemons Some Problems, let's rescue the accursed and bring him home like a puppy, uncontrollable magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelUnmei/pseuds/ArchangelUnmei
Summary: The Accursed sleeps in Angelgard, because the Accursed is real. The knowledge is passed down through Kings and Queens - a prophesy of a darkening sky, the Accursed awoken and able to command armies of daemons with a charmed voice that cannot be disobeyed, and a King of Light who will vanquish it and bring the sun back to the world. The prison on Angelgard is real, sealed with ancient chains and the royal seal of Founder King himself.(The one in which the Accursed is cursed with a charmed voice he can't control, but that's okay because Cor can't hear him anyway.)
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia & Cor Leonis
Series: Give Me A Sign [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536373
Comments: 6
Kudos: 158





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Hell yeah, necessary backstory =w=b And some essential world building.

_'The Accursed sleeps in Angelgard'_

It's one piece of lore that almost everyone knows. Or at least, anyone who's spent time at Galdin Quay, staring out at the rocky upswept wings of the Astral Prison. A great beast, a monster, a daemon, sleeps imprisoned on the island, and that is why it's off limits. There's a kilometer-wide exclusion zone around the entire island and heavy fines for anyone who trespasses, but no one ever does because fishing is abysmal around the island. No plants grow on its rocky slopes, migrating birds veer around the air above it as though the entire island is encased in a glass wall. The Accursed sleeps in Angelgard, cursing the air and poisoning the water and ground. 

Most Lucians, if they think of it at all, laugh it off as silly superstition. Nothing grows there because the island is a pile of rocks, not because it's cursed. It looks foreboding, but it's just natural erosion patterns, albeit unique ones. It's just an odd bit of centuries-old legend that has somehow stuck around. 

The royal family knows better. 

The Accursed sleeps in Angelgard, because the Accursed is real. The knowledge is passed down through Kings and Queens - a prophesy of a darkening sky, the Accursed awoken and able to command armies of daemons with a charmed voice that cannot be disobeyed, and a King of Light who will vanquish it and bring the sun back to the world. The prison on Angelgard is real, sealed with ancient chains and the royal seal of Founder King himself. 

Down by the rocky shore, there is a small barracks house. Two people are stationed there at all times, all down through Lucis' long history; people who are trusted by the royals, loyal, set there to keep watch on the prison that must never be unsealed. In older times the men were usually royal guards. Sometimes it was a position of prestige; for a few hundred years it became traditional for cousins or younger siblings of the Amicitia Shields to volunteer for the posting. These days, it's more likely to be a rotation - every Crownsguard above a certain rank does their shift on the island, boring though it might be. 

Cor has his first Angelgard duty for two weeks when he's twenty-one, soon after Regis is crowned King, and that's when he begins to wonder. 

Typically the guards spend most of their time in the barracks, which has been made as comfortable as possible over the years to make it seem a little more like a vacation and a little less like a chore. This posting is 98% ceremonial, and everyone knows it. Cor spends the first two days reading and sketching, but then his curiosity gets the better of him. 

Daemon attacks have been on the rise, the last decade or two. Historically, the strength and number of daemons does tend to rise and fall like an odd sort of tide, but this particular rise has been noticeably stronger ever since the Imperial Revolution and the end of the war. It's gotten bad enough that the Oracle has begun traveling, a pilgrimage to renew the Havens scattered across the continent, and to minister to the people afflicted with Starscourge. 

Bad enough that one of Regis' first acts upon ascending to the throne was to form a new, elite unit separate from the Crownsguard. They're called the Kingsglaive, able to share in the King's magic in a way similar to Clarus and Cor himself. These bonds are forged not of camaraderie and brotherhood on the road, but rather of necessity, Regis wielding his ancestor's Ring in a way none of them had ever thought of, granting talented men and women a connection to the power of gods. Their entire mission is to hunt down and slay the strongest daemons before they can threaten civilians. Their leader, a man only a few years older than Cor by the name of Titus Drautos, had lost his entire family to one of the most viscious and unprovoked daemon attacks in recorded memory. 

So on the afternoon of the third day, Cor finally gives in to the curiosity itching at his fingers. He puts a bookmark in his book and sets it aside, picking up his sketchbook and pencil bag instead. He leaves his fellow guard sprawled on his bunk, talking on the phone to his girlfriend back in Lestallum, and steps out into the sunlight. 

It's a bright, clear day, crisp autumn blue sky but still warm here in the southern waters. Cor tips his head back to enjoy the warmth while he can, knowing that by the time he gets back to Insomnia it'll probably be dipping below freezing at night. 

Then he turns, regarding the upswept wings of Angelgard. They're so _big_ in person, though still nothing compared to the Citadel or some of the other buildings in Insomnia. After a few minutes of contemplation, he begins climbing the path that snakes up the hill from the barracks, disappearing between the large boulders that litter the landscape. There are ancient paving stones under his feet, riddled with cracks and gaps but still showing him the way. 

He shivers as he falls into shadow, one of Angelgard's massive wings blocking out the sun just as he comes within sight of the cave mouth. The path opens up into a small plaza, worn smooth by the passage of countless numbers of boots before Cor's. Cor doesn't pause, striding across and flipping on the light clipped to his shirt as he steps down into the gently sloping cave. 

Immediately his light falls across the massive door blocking off the cave just a handful of meters in. It looks to be made of some sort of wood, made dark by nature or its incredible age or both. Two lines of black iron chains snake across the door, each link easily the size of Cor's hand, the thickness of his sword hilt. Between the two lines a massive seal of melted metal has been stamped across the join of the door - a grinning skull surmounted by a crown of stars, with a crouching Jabberwock on one side and a Bandersnatch on the other, the Old Lucian runes for _'From Solheim anew'_ etched around the edge. The royal seal of the very first King of Lucis, Regis' great-great-something-grandfather. 

Cor gulps, drawn forward in fascination, playing his light over the whole door before refocusing on the seal. This whole place makes the hairs on his arms stand on end, the very air buzzing with an ancient hum, the massive seal flickering with faint, familiar blue light. It tugs at Cor's connection to the armiger, like it's trying to decide why Cor has threads of the Crystal's magic, where he falls in the sprawling hierarchy of the Lucis Caelums. Cor hasn't felt this since Talpur, since he stared down the Blademaster and felt this same timeless, ancient feeling pressing against his skin, the same metallic tang on the back of his tongue. 

It takes him a minute to realize that some of the buzzing he's hearing is literal, his hearing aids reacting badly to the ancient magic and metal. That's just like the Crag too, though these are much nicer aids than the one he'd had back then. He makes a face and reaches up to turn them off, sparing himself the ringing annoyance. The world falls silent, but that's okay. Cor doesn't think there's much to hear down here anyway, and there's no one and nothing around to sneak up on him. 

He backs up a few steps so he can take in the entire door again, then finds a rock where he can sit. He's always been curious, and he'd done a little reading before being assigned here - or as much as he could. There's shockingly little information about Angelgard, even in the Citadel archives. He at least wants to make sketches of the door and seal. Aulea will appreciate them, if nothing else. 

And at least, Cor can confirm there _is_ something behind that door. It doesn't quite feel like daemons, but it definitely feels like Gilgamesh - prowling and pained, caged and needling against Cor's skin. Cor doesn't think he'd feel this way if nothing at all was there. 

So the Accursed is real. But that still doesn't answer what it _is_ , except that it was something powerful and dangerous enough for the Founder King to seal it away behind the shine of the Crystal's magic. 

Cor doesn't dare touch the seal or the door, afraid even his slight connection to the Crystal through Regis might be enough to undo it. So he makes his sketches and then retreats, returning to the barracks thoughtfully. 

When he returns to the Citadel, he brings his sketches, his hunches, his theories to Aulea. She might have only married into the Caelum line, but in a way that makes her perfect. Her interest in Lucian history isn't bound up in reverence or duty the same way Regis' is. And being Galahdian by birth affords her an interesting perspective on some things. 

She at least listens to him, frowning thoughtfully and nodding along. The daemon attacks are on everyone's minds lately, especially with the formation of the Kingsglaive so fresh in the news. Already there are whispers about the prophesy, about the end of the world. It's not much, yet, but... people are concerned. 

Together they bring it to Regis, and he's curious enough about their thoughts that he calls Clarus and Titus Drautos in to discuss how this might all be related... and what they might do about it. 

"So," Clarus sits back in his chair once Cor and Aulea have laid out all their findings. He folds his arms over his chest, looking pensive. "You think that daemons being on the rise means the prophesy is actually... in motion?" 

"It could be," Cor shrugs, glancing over at Captain Drautos, whose brows are lowered. They'd asked him to bring the statistics on types and number of daemons encountered lately, and the results are more worrying than any of them had realized. Bombs and Iron Giants showing up outside of caves, in lands that had always been considered safe. Mindflayers and Yojimbo showing up _within_ caves, and in caves they hadn't been recorded in for hundreds of years. Imps and Flans harrying miners, sewer workers, anyone underground, and that was only the start. 

"The next sign is supposed to be the days growing uniformly shorter," Aulea leans forward slightly in her seat, braids swinging down over her shoulder before she irritably brushes them back. "Do you want to wait for that? What if it's too late by then?" 

"The Accursed is still sealed away," Regis says, though he's also frowning softly, brow creased in concern. "We make sure of that. Are you proposing we release him?" 

"No..." Aulea sighs, sitting back again, running her hands over the papers spread out before them. "But. Legends were passed down, but not _information_. Even in the oldest books I could find, no one ever says what the Accursed _is_. Is it just a mass of endless daemons? One very powerful one? Can it be reasoned with? Clearly it can be contained. And if the prophesy is in motion, how do we know the Accursed isn't slowly growing stronger and will break out on its own without warning?" 

Cor clears his throat, because there's one important thing none of them know yet. He hasn't told Aulea, mulling it over in his mind. "Lieutenant Winters, the other guard stationed with me, said he heard singing." He waits, but they're all staring at him, waiting for him to go on, so he does. "I was sketching too close to sunset, so he came to find me. He said once he stepped into the plaza outside the cave, he heard singing. He couldn't make out any words, but he felt compelled to go into the cave. I had to practically drag him back out." 

The stunned silence lasts a few more moments as they all digest this. 

"But you were sitting right there for hours, and you didn't hear anything?" Captain Drautos asks, and Cor snorts a laugh. 

"I'm deaf," he signs at Drautos without saying anything, and the Captain looks confused. 

"What?" 

"I'm deaf," Cor says outloud this time, tilting his head and pointing to draw attention to the aids hooked over the backs of his ears. "The ancient magic was making them buzz and short out, so I turned them off while I was near the cave. I couldn't hear anything." 

"Singing," Regis says, and now his voice is heavy and grave, his brow more furrowed. "It is said the Accursed has a coercive voice. If it can be heard outside the seal, then it can entice someone entirely innocent to let it out." 

"So if it's going to get out anyway - and if it really is part of the prophesy, it will be - we should let it be on our terms." 

Everyone turns to look at Cor, and despite the seriousness, the flutter of fear in the pit of his stomach at what he's proposing, he grins. "...I've got an idea." 

"Leonis," Titus frowns, and Cor idly wonders when he went from 'Captain Drautos' to 'Titus' in his mind. "Don't you dare." 

"You're not the boss of me," Cor signs at him without bothering to speak aloud, grinning when Titus scowls in frustration. 

"No, but I am," Clarus uncrosses his arms and plants his hands on the table, his frown more worried but no less severe. "And officially, as your boss, don't you dare." 

"We don't even know what the Accursed _is_ ," Cor repeats, trying to be patient. "Look, here's what I'm thinking. The door and the chains and the seal - that's all for show. The real barrier is just made with the Crystal's magic. I can take out my hearing aids and go into the cave, and Regis can create a second barrier behind me. I'll break the seal and go in and find out what we're dealing with, and then Regis can let me out and reseal the cave completely. If the Accursed isn't ready to be woken yet, then maybe we can take it by surprise, and I can be in and out before it has a chance to do anything. And even if it does attack..." He shrugs. "I've fought worse." 

"This isn't Talpur Crag," Clarus practically growls, and Cor doesn't miss the surprised look Titus gives him. Apparently he'd been unaware of Cor's previous crazy stunt. "And that plan is a lot of _'ifs'_." 

"Including ' _If_ we don't do this it could explode in our faces when the Accursed escapes _anyway!_ " Cor snaps, starting to lose his temper. "A year, five, ten - even if it's a generation from now, not getting the information while we had the chance makes us just as bad as everyone else who's sat on this for thousands of years! For Shiva's sake Clarus, if my dumb broken ears actually give me an _advantage_ in _this one thing_ then maybe it's the reason I was born deaf in the first fucking place!" 

Clarus blinks, actually leaning back in his chair slightly and seemingly not knowing what to say in the face of Cor's outburst. Cor huffs, glaring around the table to see if anyone else wants to make a comment, and ends up meeting Regis' eyes. He draws himself up, ready for another argument, but Regis just shakes his head slowly. 

"You're right, Cor," he says softly, and everyone stares. The King huffs a soft sigh, running a hand back through his hair. He's only twenty-six, newly crowned, and Cor is so used to seeing him as the cheerful Prince he spent so much time with on their trip. But Regis straightens in his seat and meets Cor's eyes, and with a little bit of awe Cor sees the King in Regis for the first time. "I hate putting you in so much risk... but you're right." 

And that's how, after a few weeks of planning, Cor stands at the bottom of that winding path once again. Very strict orders have been put in place that _no one_ is to go up the path now that the threat of the Accursed's singing has come to light. The regular guards have been withdrawn back to Galdin for the duration of this operation, and there's a Kingsglaive unit on standby there being personally led by Titus, just in case. Cor and Clarus and Regis are the only ones on the island. Despite the danger, Regis had insisted. 

"I won't leave you there alone, Cor," he'd said, jaw locked stubbornly in a way that Cor and Clarus both knew it was useless to argue with. He'd also reasonably pointed out that if he was holding a temporary barrier over the mouth of the cave, the closer he was to it the stronger it would be. He couldn't exactly hold the spell from all the way in Insomnia. He _might_ have been able to do it from Galdin, but Regis had refused. He'd barely agreed to stay down by the shoreline, in the Crownsguard barracks. 

"Be careful," Clarus' solemn tone is the last thing Cor hears before he switches off his ears and carefully removes them, putting the devices into Clarus' waiting hand. He's not using them anyway, and doesn't want to risk them being broken if he does end up in a fight. 

He nods at Clarus, his hand dropping to rest on the hilt of his sword. It's hanging on his belt outside of the armiger, both to intimidate and show he's not defenseless in case the Accursed is intelligent enough to notice such things, and because taking even a half-second to pull it from the armiger might be too long if he's suddenly attacked. 

"Can you hear me?" he asks, testing out the microphone clipped to his collar. It's routed directly to the equipment Clarus has set up inside, and being recorded on two different mediums, just in case. Cor will narrate everything he sees and experiences as he goes in, even though he'll hear no responses. 

Just in case. 

Clarus puts a finger to his earpiece and then gives a thumbs up, and Cor takes a deep breath. He tightens his grip on his sword and starts up the slope. 

There's nothing visually strange about the pathway or the plaza, and he says as much. He steps into the cave and switches on his light, and everything looks just as he left it. Door, chains, seal, flickers of the Crystal's magic holding it all together. But the feeling of the magic waiting behind the door is more intense, more watchful, like it knows Cor is here to free it. Or kill it. Or die trying. 

Cor gulps, and closes his eyes for a moment. He's not scared, not exactly. He meant what he'd said to Clarus - if this is his purpose, then he'll gladly die if it means giving them vital clues to unravel the prophesy and maybe, eventually, save the world. But he doesn't intend to die, either. 

"I'm here, and I'm ready," he says, quietly pleased that his voice stays steady. He turns his back on the door, watching the mouth of the cave. After a few moments, he sees the shimmering, crystalline barrier form, building itself out of thin air as Regis wills it and sealing Cor inside. 

Cor waits another few moments for the barrier to solidify, and then he turns again, reaching out to press his hand to the ancient seal. Every hair on his body stands on end, a shock somewhere between electric and magical pulsing through him. It stings his palm, but he grits his teeth and _pushes_ , both physically and with the magic gifted to him by Regis. Even deaf he can hear a high, building whine, and he pushes all the harder. 

He feels the moment the barrier goes down, the Founder King's spell finally responding to the demand of the magic of his kin. With that barrier down, the door has nothing holding it together, and it shatters. 

Cor yelps and jumps a step back, instinctively raising his arms to shield his face from the splinters of flying wood and dust. He feels the thumps at his feet as the heavy chains and metal seal fall to the ground, already thick with crawling rust. He immediately curses and throws himself further back, putting his back against the tunnel wall and drawing his sword. 

But nothing leaps at him out of the settling dust. After a few moments of panting Cor realizes that just because he can't hear them doesn't mean his friends aren't probably frantically calling for him. 

"I'm okay," he says, taking a few more deep breaths to steady himself. There's nothing but darkness beyond the crumbled doorway. "When the Founder King's barrier broke, the whole door fell apart. There was nothing but magic holding it together. I don't see anything else yet, and the magic feeling is about the same. Kinda skin-crawly, but no worse than at Talpur. I'm moving forward now." 

He knows he isn't talking to himself, but that's how it feels since he won't get any responses. He steps forward, moving carefully around the debris of the door, his sword still out. It still doesn't feel like _daemons_ , though there's obviously something _powerful_ here, if the shivers Cor suddenly gets are any indication. 

For a moment his light only illuminates rock walls as he slowly turns, and he frowns. He'd been expecting a deeper tunnel to lead somewhere, but this seems to be just a single room- 

And then his light finds the Accursed, and Cor gasps in shock and nearly drops his sword. 

He swallows hard, heart hammering so loud he's sure Clarus must be able to hear it over the microphone. He begins to talk, fast and almost numb, in case- in case- in case. He relays details as he sees them without bothering to stop and process them, that will be someone else's job, later on. 

Because what he sees... is a man. Somehow none of them had ever thought the Accursed might be... just a man. And though he _feels_ like Gilgamesh, but _more_ , he doesn't look as impressive. He's just... normal sized, pale from thousands of years in darkness, his hair dark and tangled around his face, shining reddish in Cor's meager light. His arms are stretched up above his head, and he's held with chains made of pure magic; Cor can almost feel them vibrating with the power of the Crystal. 

The power of the Founder King who bound him here. 

And he's awake, amber eyes piercing, almost glowing where they've focused unblinkingly on Cor, despite the glare of his light. And he's saying something too, Cor can see his lips moving and he's glad, now, that he was the one to do this. Him and his broken ears. 

He moves a little closer, cautiously, boots scraping in the dust on the ground. The Accursed is still talking, but now that he's close enough to read his lips, Cor sees he's just repeating the same couple phrases over and over, almost mindlessly. 

"Let me out, please," he says, and Cor almost wishes he could hear the tone of his voice. Is it a demand? Or is it a plea? ...Even if it's a plea, is it a trap? "Free me. Please." 

Cor's eyes drift upward, to the chains that seem to be impaling the Accursed, though there are no visible wounds, no blood. He looks back at the man's face, and his amber eyes seem dull and strained. He's looking at Cor, but Cor doesn't think he's really seeing him. 

"Who are you?" he asks. "Are you really the Accursed?" 

He must be, if he's chained this way, but something doesn't feel right. The Accursed doesn't answer him, mumbling the same desperate phrases, and Cor swallows. He doesn't know if he can leave this man here, not like this. He doesn't feel dangerous. 

Cor looks over at the mouth of the cave, wishing now they'd come up with a way for Regis and Clarus to get messages to him. He wishes he had a better direction. All their assumptions and plans had been based on the Accursed being hostile, or non-intelligent. Not... not this. 

He can't. 

He's immune to the Accursed's power, so he'll take responsibility if he has to. He can't leave someone like this, no matter what they might have done. 

Cor's always been hot-blooded, impulsive. It's gotten him into a lot of trouble over the years, but it's gotten him out of just as much. The thought of leaving, sealing the Accursed up again like this, makes his stomach turn over. And they still don't have the answers they need about the prophesy. 

Cor takes a deep breath and resheathes his sword. He reaches out with both hands to grab the chains impaled into the Accursed's torso. The pure magic burns his hands where he isn't made to hold it, but he bares his teeth in a snarl and pulls. He pulls physically, he pulls with his small share of magic, similar to what he'd done with the door, but it isn't enough. The chains rattle and shimmer, but don't break, and Cor growls in frustration. 

Something stirs inside him, some small door in a corner of his mind that he hadn't been aware of sliding open. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, smelling ozone and fire. Eyes still closed, he feels hands wrap around his wrists, reaching through him, through the link to the Crystal. 

_"Together,"_ he hears the whisper in his deaf ear, and smiles at the familiar voice. 

When he pulls, Regis pulls with him. The chains shatter, and the Accursed stumbles and falls off his perch, straight into Cor's arms. 

\------------- 

They leave Angelgard behind them, empty and abandoned. There's no need for a guard posting there now. 

The Accursed sleeps, and they bypass Galdin to take him to the Caelum summer home at Cape Caem. As much as he wants to stay, fascinated by this stranger, Regis has to return to the city, and Clarus with him. 

Cor stays, sitting by the Accursed's bedside. The door is locked from the outside, and there are Kingsglaive stationed around the building. They bring him food and water every few hours, and he has an intercom where he can call for help if he needs it. If this were any other situation, Cor would be stifled at the arrangements, pacing the room within a day. 

But there's something... magnetic about this man. He's a mystery - victim or villain, Cor still isn't sure. They won't know until he wakes up. 

So he sits, alternating between reading and drawing, his hearing aids sitting on a nearby table in case he needs them. 

Two days later, the Accursed finally stirs. Cor looks up at the motion, then sets his book aside and scoots his chair forward so he has a clear view to read the Accursed's lips. 

"Where am I?" is the first thing he groans, blinking up at the white washed ceiling. His brow furrows, and Cor leans forward slightly. The Accursed's eyes snap to him at the motion, and he struggles with trying to sit up before apparently accepting that he's still too exhausted and collapsing back onto the pillows. "Who are you?" 

"My name is Cor Leonis," Cor answers calmly. "We're at the King's summer home right now, it's the safest place we could think of that's also out of the way." He pauses, watching the Accursed closely. "Just in case you turned out to be a threat." 

The Accursed's lips twist up into an odd grimacing grin, something bitter and broken about it. "The King," he says, and again Cor wishes he could hear the tone of voice. Reading lips can only do so much. "Dear Somnus considers me a threat?" 

Cor blinks, expression going blank. Somnus? "King Regis," he corrects. 

The Accursed's eyes narrow. "Tell me the truth," he commands, and there's a little... shiver against Cor's skin. But he can't hear the compulsion, so it doesn't take hold, and Cor breathes a sigh of relief. 

But the Accursed goes pale, suddenly bringing one hand up to cover his mouth, pressing into his own skin. Cor's startled at the sudden change, and leans forward, reaching out without thinking to put a hand on the Accursed's wrist. "Hey- Are you okay?" 

The Accursed must say something, hidden behind his hand, and his eyes are pleading with Cor for something he doesn't understand. Cor shakes his head, tugging lightly at the Accursed's wrist. "I can't hear you, you have to move your hand if I'm going to read your lips." 

The Accursed blinks in surprise, and after a moment does slowly move his hand, his eyes not leaving Cor's. "You cannot hear me?" he asks, and Cor imagines from the look on his face that his voice must be hushed. "Truly?" 

Cor shakes his head. "Not right now," he confirms. "So you can't order me around." 

To his shock and immediate concern, the Accursed begins to laugh and cry all at once, big relieved tears rolling down his cheeks to soak into his tangled hair. He rolls onto his side and curls up a little, pressing his face into the pillow as his shoulders shake. Cor doesn't know what to do, but after a moment he scoots a little closer, reaching out to put a tentative hand on his shoulder. It seems to be enough, because the Accursed reaches up with a shaking hand to curl long fingers around Cor's wrist and hang on for dear life. 

_'He never wanted this power, he hates it.'_ Cor texts Regis some hours later. _'It's a very long story, but he knows the prophesy, and he doesn't want to end the world.'_

Regis' answer, predictably, is a line of wordless question marks and exclamation points that makes Cor roll his eyes. He looks over at where the Accursed has fallen back into a fitful sleep, curled up around a pillow. 

_'I'm teaching him to sign so he doesn't have to speak,'_ Cor types after a moment. _'His name is Ardyn Lucis Caelum, and tomorrow I'm bringing him home.'_


End file.
